#potentially triggering

[balo-badartist]

Hero’s Shade, miserable death

The blue butterfly is a constant in my Oot work: it’s symbol for Zelda and Link’s bond. I headcanon that Zelda dies young, and Link watches over their descendants faithfully, but he’s also tortured knowing that more evil might come again.

That being said, I must ask that no one tags my work under another artists au. Please. It’s very violating to the central themes in my work, and very hurtful as an artist that has their own story to tell.

[sara-the-wizard]

My Everything Hurtsss

This Idea has me in a prison...

I don't know, I hope it made you laugh or something. Hope you have a great day! Lord bless you!

[kuruptt]

BILLY HARGROVE X READER

That’s My Girl Pt.2

Click here to read Pt.1 first !!!

**SUMMARY - After rescuing Billy from the Mind Flayer and relocating to Hawkins to be with him, you embrace life with your new family. El showcases her abilities and spies on Billy. Assuming his words of affection were for another girl, you grow distant. Seeking solace, you attend Tommy H's party and drink uncontrollably, only to confront a disturbing figure from your past, Oliver Miller, your recently released from jail, abusive ex boyfriend, prompting Billy to intervene and protect you. Angry Billy, Protective Billy.

**TRIGGER WARNINGS - Heavy Violence, mentions of trauma and abuse, flashbacks of abuse, abusive ex boyfriend, controlling behaviour, swearing, kissing, mentions of drowning, heavy, uncontrollable alcohol use. This fic is not for the faint heart, please proceed with caution. I do not take responsibility if this triggers you, it is your responsibility to read the trigger warnings, they are there for a reason.

WORD COUNT - 8k

MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY !!!

I do not own the rights to the following characters, other than Tiffany Anderson and Oliver Miller, who I created myself, all other characters are created and owned by the Duffer Brothers- Stranger Things.

I do NOT consent to have my work posted , translated or published to any third party site or app. If anyone sees my work anywhere but here, it has been posted without my permission.

Requests open !!!!! :)

—————————————————————————————-

The morning sun filtered through the curtains, painting soft stripes across the rumpled sheets. Last night felt like a dream, a reunion so tender it still tugged at the edges of your heart. You were cocooned against Billy, his arm was a heavy, comforting weight around your waist and the other was propped gently under your head. The air around you was thick with the lingering scent of his unique, almost musky warmth of his skin, a scent you had missed more than words could say.

Billy, on the other hand, seemed to of barely slept. Dark circles smudged above the creases of his under eyes, but they sparkled with an intensity that made your stomach flutter.

As you shifted slightly, his grip tightened almost immediately. You were wearing his white, lifeguard sweater, the faded print barely visible, but the soft cotton was like a second skin. It had ridden up in the night, exposing the curve of your hip and the pale expanse of your back.

Billy's fingers traced a lazy pattern along your spine, each touch sending shivers down your skin. He chuckled softly, a low rumble that vibrated against your ear and you got the feeling that he was teasing you about the sweater. You snuggled closer, burying your face in the crook of his neck, legs wrapped tightly around his torso and arms swung lazily over his broad, muscular shoulders, while you breathed in the familiar scent that had haunted your dreams for so long.

Opening your eyes felt like surfacing from a deep sleep, your eyelids heavy and your mind still hazy with the remnants of dreams. The first thing you saw was Billy's face, his gaze already fixed on you with an adoring expression. There was a tenderness in his eyes that made your heart ache, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken words that hung between you. A slow smile spread across your face, mirroring his own and you knew, in that moment, you’d never leave his side again.

"Good morning, Princess.” Billy said through a warm smile.

“What time is it?” (Y/N) yawned.

Usually, you woke up before Billy, so you were surprised to see him already awake.

"Ten thirty. How’d you sleep?" Billy asked.

Your confused expression melted into a smile.

“So good!” (Y/N) said through a full bodied stretch.

“How did you sleep?” She whispered, while returning the question.

"Perfect.” Billy replied, through a delicate smile that sat softly on his face.

You knew he was lying, his eyes were bloodshot red and his hair was neatly in place. He'd been watching over you for the entire night.

“Mhm.” (Y/N) teased.

“I need to get you to Hopper's today, so you can get settled in. I'll give him the rundown on everything. It's his day off, but he could get called in for work at any point. You can stay here a few more nights after we’ve worked everything out, just until my dad comes home.” Billy explained.

“H- Hopper?" (Y/N) asked with a puzzled look on her face.

"Oh, shit, sorry, uh- El, you remember the girl, from last night with the uh- the- the powers? Hopper's her dad, well, kinda.” Billy clarified.

(Y/N) tilted her head, her eyes narrowing slightly.

“Kinda?" She questioned.

"It's a long story. He took her in and adopted her, that's all you need to know for now, I’ll explain the rest when you’re settled in.” Billy promised.

The sound of approaching footsteps flooded your ears and just a short second later, Max swung Billy's door open without so much as a courtesy knock.

“(Y/N)” She called, voice low and soft.

“Jesus... What now!" Billy snapped.

(Y/N) playfully pinched Billy's bare chest, silently telling him to be nice to Maxine and turned back to her with a warm smile painted across her face.

“Yeah?” (Y/N) responded.

"Uh- I was wondering if you could help me... I'm having girl problems." She whispered behind the palm of her hand, gesturing for (Y/N) to follow her.

“Yeah, of course! I’ll be right out.” (Y/N) said, voice riddled with concern.

You turned to face Billy, a sudden impulse drawing you closer and gripped his chin between the soft tips of your index and thumb, feeling the slightly rough stubble beneath them. You brought his face forward and kissed him on the cheek a handful of times, each press of your lips a small, deliberate act of affection. Billy lowered his lashes until they eventually fluttered shut as he received them. He felt your palm cradling his face, the soft pressure grounding him in the moment. Feeling your touch, your presence, made him fill with a love that was both overwhelming and indescribable.

“I’m gonna go and help Max and then I’ll get ready, go take a shower, I’ll be done by the time you get out.” (Y/N) said, convincingly.

You unfolded the bedsheets, the crisp cotton rustling softly in the quiet room. Pushing yourself up from Billy’s bed, you felt the slight dip from where you had been laying, the warmth lingering faintly beneath your hand. You stood, the wooden floorboards a sharp, icy cold, shock beneath your bare feet and reached up, you gathered your hair, the strands cool against the back of your neck and quickly tied it into a messy bun, a quick tug and tuck and you were done. You slowly made your way to the door, each footstep echoed faintly in the otherwise silent house and left Billy to his own devices.

You headed for Max’s room. The door was slightly ajar, a slither of light spilling into the hallway. Inside, Max was sat at the edge of her bed, her leg bouncing nervously.

"Hey, Max.” (Y/N) said, her voice soft in the doorway.

“Oh, hey, uh- so here’s the thing, I don’t do all of the thoughts and feelings crap and I know you already know that, but I missed your stupid ass and I wondered if you wanted to hang out with me and El today, just the three of us?" Max asked, her words tumbling out in a rush.

"Thought you were having girl problems, huh?" (Y/N) said with a smile, a hint of amusement in her voice.

“Yeah well, I didn’t wanna ask in front of Billy, he’d of tried to keep you to himself, he’s like a rash, a smelly, annoying rash." Max said, wrinkling her nose in disgust.

“Okay, okay, fine… Let’s do it.” (Y/N) said through a slight chuckle.

“I’ll go and throw some clothes on and then we’ll get outta here, sound good?” (Y/N) questioned.

“Sure.” Max replied, a smile painted across her face.

You rushed back to Billy’s bedroom, a sense of urgency driving your steps. But as you glanced around, reality hit hard, you had no extra clothes with you, nothing, other than the ones you wore last night. And those clothes… they reeked of a smell you couldn’t quite describe, a mix of damp and something vaguely otherworldly, a lingering souvenir from the Mind Flayer, they looked like costume from a bad dream, they had definitely seen better days.

Panic began to settle in. You pivoted sharply, your bare feet sticking and peeling against the wooden floor, the sound echoing in the sudden silence. Every second felt like an eternity as you charged down the hallway, desperate to escape the smell of evil. Reaching Max’s door, you paused, catching your breath before cautiously poking your head inside.

“Uhhh- sooo, I have no clothes.” (Y/N) blurted out, a nervous laugh escaping her lips.

You needed to borrow something, anything, and fast.

Maxine returned your giggles with a playful smile of her own, understanding the urgency in your situation. She scurried over to her wardrobe, a vibrant collection of colors and patterns and began rifling through the hangers. After a moment, she turned heel and greeted you with a pair of well worn denim shorts and a bright yellow t-shirt, the fabric soft and inviting.

"Here, these should work.” Maxine said, handing them to you with a reassuring smile.

"Thank you, thank you, you’re a life saver!" (Y/N) exclaimed, her voice filled with genuine gratitude.

With the borrowed clothes in hand, you darted back to Billy’s room, trying to be as quick as possible against the clock.

Reaching the room, you wasted no time in pulling the t-shirt over your head, the soft cotton a welcome relief against your skin and started tugging the shorts up, the denim clinging to your waist, you felt a sudden presence behind you. Your heart skipped a beat as you snapped back, eyes widening in surprise.

Leaning against the door frame, Billy stood there, a captivating figure against the well lit room. His body was still glistening from the shower, water droplets tracing paths down his perfectly toned muscles, highlighting the sculpted contours of his chest and arms. His hair, usually a wild mane of unruly waves and a riot of volume, was now a look of defined spirals that clung close to his head, almost dry from the rough towelling.

A soft, white towel was draped casually around his neck, adding to the effortless allure of his presence. He was wearing his signature black shorts, the ones he always wore to work out in, the dark fabric complimenting him perfectly against his sun kissed skin.

A moment of silence hung in the air, broken only by the sound of your own ragged breathing. His gaze was intense, unwavering and filled with an undeniable admiration. A subtle smile played on his lips as he spoke, his voice a low, husky murmur that sent shivers down your spine.

"You're beautiful.” He stated simply, the words carrying a weight that resonated deep within you.

You offered Billy a shy smile and a quiet ‘thank you’ before crossing the space between you. Wrapping your arms around his waist, you looked up as he framed your face with his large, warm palms.

“So, I uh- I’m going to spend the day with Max and El. That okay?" (Y/N) questioned.

Billy scoffed playfully.

“Jesus, that little shit's obsessed with you. You’ve barely been here two minutes and she's already trying to take you from me.” He said, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

"Soooo… That a yes?" (Y/N) pressed.

"Sure, whatever. I'll hang with Tommy while I wait. Just call me when you're ready. Max knows the number, you'll be fine." He reassured.

"Okay, yeah." (Y/N) replied, unable to suppress an excited grin.

"But we’re talking to Hopper first. I need to make sure you have a place to stay when my dad gets back." Billy's tone brooked no argument.

"Okay, Billy.” (Y/N) agreed easily.

Moving to Hawkins hadn't been on your radar. Back in California, you had a solid group of friends, nights blurring into mornings with parties and laughter, a deliberate escape from the fractured reality of your life. You'd lived with your friend, Tiffany Anderson, for years, ever since your parents got divorced and had left you adrift. The move wouldn't raise any eyebrows or cause concern. You were used to relying only on yourself, Billy knew that.

He dressed quickly, sticking to his signature denim on denim look, his commitment to it almost consistent. A denim jacket with equally favoured denim jeans, the texture of both pieces slightly worn but undeniably stylish. He paired the look with his black boots, that clearly showed signs of age but still looked great and grounded the outfit, while the black belt, its buckle understated, cinched at his waist and finally, beneath the layers of denim, a crisp white tank top completed the look.

Seeing Billy in his usual attire sparked an idea. You remembered that you couldn't wear his denim jacket from the night before because it needed a good, long wash… Either that or it needed to be tossed in the trash.

"Can I borrow another jacket? Mine, well… Yours, still smells like shit, it’s bad. From last night, I mean.” (Y/N) joked, hoping he wouldn't mind.

“Yeah, sure, don't need to ask me, baby. Help yourself next time.” Billy said casually.

He grabbed another denim jacket from his wardrobe, one he hadn't worn in a while since he'd outgrown it and slipped it over your shoulders.

Looking up at him after thanking him, you blurted out a very quick, "I love you, Billy."

Billy met your gaze directly and then latched hungrily onto your lips, his tongue swirled against yours for a good few seconds, followed by a playful nibble at your bottom lip. He pulled away gently, a wide smile lighting up his face along with your own.

“I love you too, baby.” He responded softly. "Come on, let's go before we miss Hop, you can keep the jacket.” He finished.

You quickly pulled over and laced up your white Converse shoes and hurried down the hallways and into Max's room.

“You ready?" (Y/N) asked, after knocking lightly on the door.

"I was born ready.” Max replied, a phrase she used quite frequently before opening the door and stepping out to meet you.

The three of you made your way towards the front door, you and Maxine sharing giggles that echoed slightly in the confined space of the thin hallway. Billy trailed behind, a soft scoff escaping his lips, not because he was angry at your enjoyment, but from a yearning to reclaim the time lost during your year apart. Today, your first day back with him, felt as though Maxine had unknowingly stolen the time he could’ve had with you.

Billy held the door open, gesturing for you and Maxine to pass him. As you did, a sharp, playful slap landed on your rear, eliciting a quick turn of your head in surprise. Your jaw hit the floor and your eyes pierced through his. Billy's smirk was full of mischief as he shut the door behind him. The three of you hurried down the weathered steps and settled into the plush leather seats of Billy’s car.

“Ready?" Billy asked, tucking a cigarette between his lips.

A chorus of approvals followed.

“Yeah.” (Y/N) replied, with Maxine adding an impatient, "Yes, go!"

With a flick of his lighter, the cigarette was lit, Billy turned the key in the ignition and the engine roared to life, filling the air with its powerful vibrations. Shifting the car into gear, Billy navigated the streets at a reckless speed and headed for Hopper’s place.

——————————————————————————-

“It’s nicer inside, I promise.” You heard Max say as the three of you fixed your gaze onto Hoppers cabin.

Billy looked over at you in the passenger seat.

“It’s temporary, I promise.” He reassured.

The car crunched to a halt on the gravel. You climbed out, leaves rustling below you and headed for the front door, Billy guiding you and Max trailing behind. The old wooden steps of Hopper's cabin groaned and creaked with every footstep. Before Billy could even raise his hand to knock, the door swung inward, revealing Hopper's imposing figure.

“Hargrove.” He greeted, his voice a low rumble, "what brings you here?" He finished.

A flicker of excitement lit up El's face as she peered from behind him, her eyes locked onto you.

“(Y/N)!" She exclaimed, waving with excitement.

You returned her smile, a sense of nervous anticipation swirling inside you.

“Got a minute?" Billy asked Hopper, a hint of urgency in his voice.

“Sure, but make it quick. I'm on a tight schedule, it’s supposed to be my day off.” Hopper replied with a slight huff, his gaze shifting between Billy, you and Maxine.

After a hurried explanation from Billy and El, Hopper's stern expression softened. He relented, agreeing to let you stay with them and take you in as one of his own. Questions about your parents and previous living situations hung in the air, but upon understanding your circumstances, a sense of protectiveness washed over him. He saw someone in need of a home, just like El.

El, meanwhile, was overjoyed at the thought of having a sister, a normal, sister, someone new to share her life with, someone she could trust.

A visible weight lifted off of Billy's shoulders as he gave you a reassuring nod, a silent promise of safety.

El, bubbling with excitement, grabbed yours and Maxine’s hands, pulling you towards her room. As you stepped inside, a wave of nervousness hung over you, but a shout from Billy stopped you in your tracks.

“Hey, call me when you're ready to leave, okay?" He said firmly.

“Yeah, sure, see ya later.” (Y/N) replied, offering a small smile.

A fleeting pang of disappointment crossed Billy's face as he realized he wouldn't receive a proper goodbye, your usual kiss on his cheek and a tight hug, but he masked it with a nod, understanding your eagerness to bond with your new sister.

Hopper, after a few more passing words with Billy, announced that he had to leave for work. Promising to be on your best behavior, you watched him disappear into the woods, heading for his truck, leaving you alone with El and Max.

An hour passed in a flurry of conversation, as you delved into the depths of El's life in Hawkins. But El's attention soon drifted, her thoughts consumed by Mike, her now ex boyfriend. Max, too, was grappling with a recent breakup with Lucas, the aftermath of a petty argument.

“Oh, don't worry about it.” Max said, trying to lighten the mood. "He'll come crawling back to you in no time, begging for forgiveness. I guarantee you, he and Lucas are probably wallowing in self pity, going, 'Ohhh, I hope they take us back.'" She giggled. “God, what I'd give to see their stupid faces.” Maxine added.

Max's attempt at humor fell flat as El's eyes widened, an idea forming in her mind. You and Maxine exchanged a silent, questioning look before turning back to El.

Seizing the opportunity, El grabbed the old radio, its static filling the room and blindfolded herself. With a deep breath, she focused her powers, attempting to tap into the world of Lucas and Mike.

“Is this really going to work?" Max asked, skepticism lacing her voice.

"Holy shit, this is insane!" She exclaimed, but El quickly silenced her.

“Max!” She hissed.

“Right yeah, got it, quiet.” Max replied.

For a few minutes, the room was filled with nothing but the crackling of the radio and El's focused concentration, but soon after, giggles erupted as she relayed snippets of Mike and Lucas’s conversation, followed by their gross, typical, boy behaviour.

“Oh, wait, spy on Billy!" Max exclaimed, a mischievous grin spreading across her face as she looked in your direction.

Eleven nodded her head in silence and focused for the second time and a thin, trickle of blood escaped from her nostril.

“What’s he doing?” Maxine asked followed by uncontrollable giggles that escaped your lips.

“He’s… Talking. To a- a boy.” El said, her brow furrowed in concentration under the soft fabric of the blindfold.

You knew it was Tommy H. Billy had already told you he’d be spending his time with him until he picked you up. But a strange pang of… something… resonated in your chest.

“What’s he saying?” (Y/N) asked, trying to sound casual.

“He wanted, to spend, the day with her… but. It. Is. Not. Fair on (Y/N).” El said, parroting Billy’s words, her eyes darting around under her eyelids as if the words themselves were moving objects.

“What, who? Me?” (Y/N) asked, glancing over at Max in confusion.

Max shrugged, the same confused look on your face, now on hers.

“I think so, I don’t know.” She said.

“He says, he did. Not. Think. That he was ca- capable of feeling like this again. She. Changed. Everything.” Eleven continued, her voice strained.

El lowered the blindfold and looked straight at you, her expression unreadable.

“What. Is. Capable?” El asked.

“It means power, like he didn’t know he had the power to feel like this again.” Max blurted out, a little too quickly. “What was that about?” She asked you, her eyes searching your face for an answer.

“I don’t know.” (Y/N) responded, pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them.

Another half hour passed. You all made Eggo’s and started to watch a movie. Billy's words echoed in your mind, stirring a confusing mix of emotions and Max, kept glancing over at you with a knowing look in her eyes.

“Hey, why don’t we uh… Why don’t we go to the mall? Get you some new clothes? Anddd, I heard Tommy H is having a party at his place tonight. You should go, get to know everyone, make friends.” She stated, a little too brightly.

“We- are, her friends.” El said, her voice laced with a hint of anger and jealousy. She didn’t like the idea of sharing you with anyone else.

“Yes, we are, but we’re practically sisters too. She needs to meet people her own age.” Max said, her tone softening.

Hopper knew Maxine was coming over and had already put a sum of money in the cupboard under the sink, just in case her and El decided to go somewhere. You had your own money too, the money you entered Hawkins with. It wasn’t much but it was enough to get you from A to B. You’d taken it from your old denim jacket and stuffed it into your new one before you left his house. So, you were more than prepared to go to the mall.

The journey began with a dash to catch the departing bus. A flurry of laughter and shared excitement filled the brief ride until finally, Star Court Mall emerged into view, signaling the start of an exciting outing.

——————————————————————————-

The hours you spent at the mall evaporated in a flurry of fabric and laughter. You'd managed to score a couple of new outfits and something perfect for Tommy H's party tonight. Max and El, on the other hand, had stocked up on snacks and sweets, but they hadn't neglected their own wardrobes, each selecting a stylish outfit for the both of them.

The three of you pooled the last of your funds for a bus journey back home, where Hopper, having left work early, greeted you with a warm smile as you entered. You were the last to be welcomed and as you stepped inside, Hopper turned to you.

“Hey kid, settling in okay?" He asked, his eyes filled with genuine concern.

A warmth bloomed within you, a sensation unfamiliar and comforting. You'd never known a father figure before and the feeling was both new and welcome.

“Yes, thankyou.” (Y/N) responded, a soft smile tugging at her lips.

“Is it okay if I call my friend? Just to let her know I'm okay?" (Y/N) inquired, gesturing towards the wall mounted telephone.

“Sure kid, it’s right there.” He replied, pointing towards the wall and turning back to the tv.

You picked up the receiver and punched in the familiar digits. Your friend, Tiffany, answered almost immediately and the next five minutes dissolved in a burst of excited chatter. You gave her your new home's phone number and she promised to stay in touch. Tiffany's hatred towards Billy was more than clear and she strongly disapproved of your decision to leave her and your friendship behind for him. The call ended abruptly and you turned back to Hopper, a knot of anxiety tightening in your stomach.

“Everything okay?" He asked, his brow furrowed slightly.

“Yeah, uh, could I maybe get a ride, back to Billy's place?" (Y/N) asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I thought he was picking you up?" He replied, his gaze questioning.

“Yeah, uh, plans kinda changed.” (Y/N) said, avoiding his eyes.

“Yeah, sure kid, come on.” He agreed, his tone softening.

He rose from his seat, finished the last of his beer and grabbed the keys to his truck, opening the door and waiting for you to pass him.

“See ya later, wish me luck!" (Y/N) called out to El and Maxine, a nervous energy bubbling within her.

“I'll be back soon, you won't even notice I'm gone. Max, I'll take you home in an hour.” Hopper added, his voice firm but reassuring.

And with that, the two of you were gone and the rumble of the truck engine faded into the distance.

——————————————————————————-

Back at Billy's, the dress you'd chosen along with heels, for Tommy H's party were sprawled across Billy’s bed, the other options left behind at home. You'd let yourself in through his window, a familiar act he wouldn't mind, though you knew you should have probably given him a heads up first.

You began shedding your old clothes and slipping into the new ones, the tight, black mini dress that molded to your figure almost perfectly. Suddenly, you heard the distinct growl of Billy's Camaro rushing down the street and pulling up outside.

You were stood in front of Billy's mirror, putting the final touches on your hair, when you heard him enter the house. His boots echoed down the hallway, a loud, thud that grew louder with each step until he stepped into his room.

“Jesus, (Y/N)! What are you doing here? Why didn't you call me? I've been waiting for hours.” Billy exclaimed, his voice laced with confusion and annoyance.

Assuming his words that El had repeated back to you were meant for someone else, you ignored him, focusing on your reflection. You decided on a half up half down hairstyle, with two strands left to fall that framed your face.

“Hey, do you hear me? I said-" Billy reached out, palm up and hand open as he gently aimed for your arm, only to be cut off swiftly.

You brushed past him before he could make contact and grabbed the little black heels from his bed, slipping them on and buckling them up at a quick pace.

Billy’s eyes shifted to his bed, noticing the bag that you put Max’s clothes back into.

“Did you go to the mall?" He asked, his tone switching to curiosity.

Again, you ignored him and his frustration grew.

“At least tell me what you're getting all dressed up for.” He pleaded, his voice tinged with desperation.

"I'm going out, Billy. Give it a rest.” (Y/N) spat, her voice sharp.

He sighed and ran his palm that was now covered in sweat, over his face.

“Where? Wit- With Who?” He pressed, his questions tumbling out in a rush.

You scoffed and pushed yourself off of Billy’s bed, straightening your posture as you did it.

“Billy, stop.” (Y/N) demanded, her voice firm.

You snapped around and headed out of the bedroom, your heels clicking against the creaky, wooden floorboards and Billy trailing close behind.

"What the fuck is going on with you, Huh?" He demanded an answer, his voice rising in anger.

Remembering Max's directions, you knew Tommy H's house was within walking distance, even in the heels you were wearing. You opened the front door, the hinges groaning slightly and stepped out into the evening air.

"Jesus, are you at least going to call me when you need a ride this time?" Billy called out, his voice laced with sarcasm and worry.

"I'm not coming back here, Billy. I'm going back home. I'll see you when I see you, I guess.” (Y/N) replied, her words dismissive.

You started walking away from Billy's house, the sound of your heels crunching against the sidewalk echoed in the quiet street. Anger at your boyfriend lingered, but his number, memorised from your California days, was the only number in Hawkins that you knew, you’d have to call him for a ride at some point, you knew that, but Billy didn’t, he assumed your new father, would pick you up and take you home.

"When will I see you again?" He shouted after you, his voice filled with uncertainty.

Again, you offered no response and continued your walk, leaving Billy standing in the doorway alone, his expression a mix of confusion and hurt until finally, he snarled and slammed the door shut. He wanted to rush after you, to stop you in your tracks and demand answers, but he also wanted to give you the space, not only that, he had to wait in for Maxine to get home.

The walk to Tommy H's stretched on for what felt like an eternity, clocking in at a solid twelve minutes. As you neared the house, the thrumming bass of the music intensified, a strong vibration that spilled out onto the street. You paused, a flicker of doubt crossing your mind , the attraction of retreating home was strong. But you plucked up the courage, straightened your shoulders and headed for the front door.

Upon entering, an unfamiliar face greeted you.

"Hey, (Y/N), you're Billy's girlfriend, right? The new girl in Hawkins? I'm Nancy, Nancy Wheeler, Mike's sister.” She said softly, her tone warm and welcoming.

“Oh, yeah, hey! It's so nice to finally meet you, I've heard so much about you!" (Y/N) replied, genuinely pleased.

"All good things, I hope.” Nancy said with a smile, her eyes briefly scanning your outfit. "You look amazing. Let's get you something to drink." She added.

Nancy smoothly guided you through the crowded living room, introducing you to a few of her friends. Among them was Steve Harrington, recently single after his breakup with Nancy in favor of Jonathan Byers. Steve's eyes lingered on you, a moment longer than necessary, a spark of interest flickering within them. As the night progressed, you found yourself drawn to Steve's easygoing charm and quick wit. Laughter flowed freely between you, and you discovered a shared sense of humor that felt instantly comfortable. A connection sparked and a bond was instantly formed. In that moment, amidst the pulsating music and swirling bodies, you and Steve silently acknowledged that you had found a new best friend in each other. Although Steve had a crush on you the second he laid his eyes on you.

You tossed back the last of your oddly sweet drink and allowed Steve to lead you back onto the makeshift dance floor.

Steve was aware of your relationship with Billy. Infact, everyone in Hawkins knew. During your time in California, Billy had made it clear to anyone who dared show interest that he was still devoted to you, that no one could ever replace you in his heart, but it didn’t stop Steve from spending more time with you, it was a connection he couldn’t ignore, even if he couldn’t ever, address it.

Just as you were about to flag Nancy down for a refill, a voice cut through the music, calling your name.

“(Y/N)? (Y/N), it's for you." A slightly sweaty individual thrust the cordless phone into your hand.

Your face tightened and scrunched with annoyance as you snatched the receiver, holding it to your ear.

“Billy, I told you-“ (Y/N) began, but a voice on the other end swiftly cut her off.

"Heyyyy, pretty lady."

A cold dread washed over you, constricting your throat. A knot of fear twisted in your stomach, mirroring the one that tightened in your chest.

"Wh-who is this?" (Y/N) asked, her voice barely a whisper.

"Come onnn, you know who I am…" The voice was laced with a chilling familiarity. "Thought you could get away from me, huh? Lock me up and throw away the key?" The words hung in the air, heavy with menace and the party atmosphere seemed to fade away, leaving you standing alone in a spotlight of terror.

Oliver Miller.

He was your first boyfriend, before there was Billy, there was Oliver.

Oliver had been in jail for the past three years due to his abusive behavior towards you, his sister, and his own mother. His animosity towards women was evident throughout his many relationships.

After a six month period, his relationship with you ended when he was taken into custody, marking the final instance of physical violence against you. Billy, aware of Oliver's actions, harbored a desire for retribution but was unable to act due to Oliver's imprisonment. Billy vowed severe consequences should Oliver ever be released.

“What do you want, Oliver, how did you get this number, how’d you know where I am.” (Y/N) questioned, voice laced with fear.

Until suddenly, everything clicked into place.

Tiffany's betrayal cut deep. Spitefully, she revealed your new location in Hawkins to Oliver, choosing to inflict pain for your choice of Billy over her. Tiffany's call to your home was answered by El, whom she manipulated with a false urgency, extracting your whereabouts at Tommy's place. Max's unwitting shout of the number and address sealed your fate.

"See you soon, pretty girl.” Oliver's voice lingered in your mind, a chilling promise.

Uncertain if he was truly nearby, you initially dismissed the threat. The distance to Hawkins seemed impossible, a full day and night's journey. Besides, you reasoned, your new father was the chief of police and Billy, despite your unresolved doubts, would undoubtedly defend you.

Seeking solace, you retreated to the kitchen, each step triggering a fresh wave of painful flashbacks. You poured one drink after another, the alcohol numbing the edges of your fear. Half an hour blurred by and you stumbled, losing your balance against the counter. You were way over your limit, but just as you braced for a fall, strong arms encircled you. You tilted your head to face the person who just helped you and there he was…

Oliver.

Disbelief clashed with terror. How could he be here so soon? Where was he staying? From where had he called? How did he find you? Panic seized you, your heart hammering against your ribs, your breath catching in ragged gasps. Tears streamed down your face as he lifted you into his arms, carrying you out into the garden in an attempt to get you to catch your breath, before explaining his presence.

After a few frozen moments outside, you managed to steady your breathing enough to understand his words, though each inhale still hitched with suppressed panic.

“So, where’s Billy, huh? Your little boyfriend not here to protect you?” He chuckled, the sinister sound grating against your raw nerves.

“You know he’d beat your ass if he was, Oliver.” (Y/N) stated, trying to project a confidence she didn't feel. It was a desperate attempt to regain control, to remind him and herself of her strength.

“Hey!” He shouted, his grip tightening on your arm, the sudden force pulling you uncomfortably close. The pressure was a sharp, painful reminder of his physical dominance.

The flashbacks crashed over you again, a tidal wave of traumatic memories. Each detail, each sensation, flooded your senses and your eyes welled up for the second time, blurring your vision. A cruel smirk played on Oliver’s lips as he witnessed your distress.

“Oh, I’m sorry, am I scaring you?” He said sarcastically, his tone dripping with false concern. It was a calculated move, designed to undermine your resolve and increase your fear.

“Let go, Oliver, please.” (Y/N) pleaded, the words barely a whisper. Her voice trembled, betraying the depth of her vulnerability.

Oliver’s grip remained tight, his gaze locked onto yours, his eyes like cold, predatory stones. He got off on your fear and drew power from your helplessness.

“You didn’t think I’d find you, huh?” He questioned, his voice a low, menacing rumble.

“Why are you so bothered about me? Why not someone else?” (Y/N) asked, the words tumbling out in a desperate rush.

You sought any explanation, any reason to break through his obsession.

“Because you, belong, to me.” He hissed, each word a possessive claim, a brand burned into your soul.

“No. I, belong, to Billy.” (Y/N) retorted through gritted teeth, the defiance a fragile shield against his increasing control. It was a declaration of independence, a refusal to surrender yourself to his twisted desires.

The comment made Oliver’s blood boil to an extreme temperature, he shoved you against the brick wall of Tommy H’s house with a force that felt like a battering ram and seized a fistful of your hair, sending you crashing down to the ground. Your face slammed against the floor, the impact so violent that a sharp, sickening pop resonated from your nose. Agony erupted as blood flooded your senses, swirling your vision and choking your gasps. A scream, born of sheer terror, clawed its way out of your throat, a desperate plea in the face of unimaginable horror.

“Nancy, Steve!” You cried out, voice cracking as you did.

Oliver loomed over you, his shadow swallowing you whole as his hands clamped onto your face. His grip was tight, unescapable, enough to leave a burning, florid imprint on your skin. You were trapped, a helpless puppet in his cruel game.

“Now you listen to me and you listen to me good, you bitch-“ Oliver, foaming at the mouth with anger, was abruptly cut off as Steve, with a surge of adrenaline, yanked him away from you and slammed him against the floor.

Before Oliver could react, Tommy H was there, adding his weight to Steve's, making sure Oliver stayed pinned in place.

The screams tore from your throat as Nancy wrapped her arms tightly around you.

“Oh my God, (Y/N), are you okay? Someone, please, call Billy, NOW!" She urged, her voice laced with panic.

"Get off me!" Oliver yelled, his voice muffled.

Steve, fueled by anger, silenced Oliver with a sharp punch to the jaw. He and Tommy H dragged him well away from you and across the other end of the garden, the sound of his clothes scraped against the concrete along with his groans that filled the sudden silence, they created a safe distance between you and your attacker.

Moments later, the roar of Billy's Camaro echoed through the entire house and garden. He burst in, slamming the door against the wall on entry, unsure of the situation, only knowing that you were hurt. Billy moved through the house as quickly as he could, his breaths heavy and uneven.

“(Y/N)!" He called out, his voice filled with urgency.

“Over here.” Nancy responded.

Billy snapped his head to the sound and burst through the towering glass doors, his haste evident. He scanned the frost kissed garden, the manicured hedges and empty flowerbeds, bare under the night sky. His eyes darted around until he spotted you, nestled in Nancy's arms on the unforgivingly cold ground. A wave of relief washed over his face, quickly followed by a surge of concern. He rushed towards you, his footsteps quickening as he closed the distance.

Reaching your side, he knelt, his breath misting in the bitter air. He reached out, his hand hovering for a moment before gently touching your arm. His gaze flicked between you and Nancy, seeking answers. The air was thick with unspoken tension, the stillness broken only by Billy's ragged breaths and the distant gusts of wind. The weight of the situation hung heavy.

Billy’s eyes fell to the pool of blood that spread across the floor. He looked down at you, your face streaked with tears and fear, your hands clutching your nose, blood seeping through your fingers. Your new dress was ruined, your skin stained and your hair matted. You finally looked up to meet Billy’s gaze and lunged forward into his arms, seeking safety in his embrace. Confusion clouded Billy's eyes. You sobbed, gasping for air against his chest and he held you close, while cradling your head.

“Baby… Who, the fuck, did this to you? Huh, Tell me.” He demanded, gently pulling your head back.

You coughed and took in a shaky breath.

“O-Oliver, he's here, Billy, he's here.” (Y/N) cried, fear gripping her voice.

“Who? A guy hurt you? A guy, did this to you?” Billy's said, his voice edged with fury.

“Oliver Miller, my ex, he's out of jail and he's here.” (Y/N) managed to say.

Billy released you instantly and turned, ready to hunt down and confront Oliver, only to see him right there in front of him, laid on the ground, pinned down by Tommy H and Steve Harrington. There he was, the man he had fantasised about unleashing his darkest thoughts onto, for countless nights.

Billy stormed over, fuelled by pure, uncontrollable anger radiating off of him like heat from a furnace. His eyes, usually a vibrant blue, were now dark pools of fury, that reflected the rage within.

“Motherfucker!" He roared, the word tearing through the air like a jagged shard of glass.

Without hesitation, Billy's boot connected with Oliver's stomach, the force of the blow causing Oliver to double over instantly, a strangled cough escaping his lips. Steve and Tommy, sensing the volatile situation, wisely retreated, creating a buffer of space around the unfolding violence. Billy, relentless, continued his assault, each kick a brutal punctuation mark in his furious rant. Finally, he knelt, seizing Oliver by the scruff of his neck.

“You think you can lay your hands on my fucking girl?" He hissed, his voice a venomous whisper that promised unspeakable pain.

Billy unleashed a series of hard blows, each one a hammer strike against Oliver's face. Over and over, the punches landed with sickening thuds, an unstoppable barrage of torture. No one dared to intervene, paralyzed by the sheer intensity of Billy's rage. Even you, usually the voice of reason, found yourself rooted to the spot, unable to break through the fiery, red haze of his fury. He kept punching Oliver, the sound of flesh on flesh echoing in the tense silence, until he suddenly stopped and stood up. He bent down, grabbing Oliver by the collar and dragged him towards the shimmering surface of the pool. With a grunt, he rolled Oliver onto his front and plunged his head into the cool water.

“You like abusing women, huh? Makes you feel tough?" Billy spat, holding Oliver's head just above the surface for a torturous moment before dunking it back under.

Bubbles erupted from the depths as Oliver desperately fought for air, his limbs flailing weakly. Billy yanked him out, rolling him onto his back, Oliver coughing up water as it spilled from the corners of his mouth.

“I get it, I. I. I get it, man, just- just stop, okay.” Oliver pleaded, his voice trembling with fear and pain.

“Stop? You want me to stop? Did you stop when my girl asked you to? Huh?" Billy roared, punctuating his words with several more brutal punches to Oliver's face.

A quick glance, a silent exchange that passed between Steve and Tommy, a mutual understanding dawning in their eyes. They knew that if they didn't act fast, Oliver might not survive, and Billy, would face the grim consequences of his actions. The duo rushed forward, grabbing Billy and dragging him away from Oliver's battered body.

“No! Let go!” He screamed, his body writhing against their hold.

“Billy!" (Y/N) called out, her voice laced with desperation.

He snapped his head towards you, his eyes momentarily clearing, replaced by a flicker of recognition.

“Please stop, that's enough now.” (Y/N) pleaded, her voice soft but firm.

The fight seemed to drain out of Billy as he rushed towards you, scooping you into his arms as if you were a lifeline. He turned to Tommy, his face hardening once more.

“Deal with him.” He ordered, before carrying you away through the gate at the back.

And with that, Tommy had Oliver pinned and Steve, ever the responsible one, had already contacted the authorities. The wail of sirens grew louder, piercing the night as police cars arrived on the scene. You were now safely nestled in Billy's lap, the soft blanket a small comfort against the lingering fear. Billy's Camaro seemed like a haven as he held you tightly.

Hopper arrived with the urgency of a man who loved you. He crouched at the car door, his eyes searching yours for any sign of lasting harm.

"What the hell happened here, (Y/N)? Hey, kid, look at me. I’m here, okay? Tell me what happened." His voice, though laced with anger, was grounded in a deep well of concern.

For the next fifteen minutes, you recounted the events, each word a painful reminder of the terror you had just experienced. Hopper listened very closely, his pen scratching furiously against his notepad. With each detail, his expression darkened, his protective instincts rising to the surface.

Finally, after quite some time, Oliver was led away in handcuffs. Hopper, his face grim, turned back to you.

“I’m going to put him in jail for as long as I possibly can.” He vowed, his voice low and dangerous. "I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure he’s in the worst place imaginable."

A glimmer of hope flickered within you.

“Can you really do that?" (Y/N) asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Hopper's eyes hardened with determination.

“I can do anything I want, kid. I’m chief of police… Take her away from here, Billy, far away. Get her cleaned up. Bring her home in the morning when I’m back. I’m going to make sure this little..." He paused, struggling to contain his rage. "I’m going to make sure he gets what’s coming to him. Go.” He finished, his voice softening slightly as he looked at you.

Billy, his jaw tight with suppressed anger, gave Hopper a thankful nod. He carefully settled you into the passenger seat, his bloody and bruised hand lingering on yours for a moment before starting the engine.

As he drove away, Billy held your hand tightly, his silent presence a reassuring anchor in the storm of emotions swirling within you. The rhythmic hum of the Camaro and the steady pressure of his hand were the only things that were keeping the darkness at bay.

——————————————————————————-

Arriving at Billy’s, he carried you through the front door, down the hallway, and into his bedroom, cradled in his arms. The scent of his familiar cologne mixed with the metallic tang of blood filled your senses. He sat you upright on the edge of his bed, the worn fabric of his blanket soft against your legs. Billy rushed to the bathroom, his footsteps echoing in the sudden silence, and returned with Susan’s first aid kit. He tried to be as quiet as possible with Max being asleep in her bedroom. Kneeling at your feet, his eyes were filled with a concern that warmed you despite the throbbing pain in your face.

“This is going to sting a little, alright sweetheart?” He said, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it.

He took out an alcohol wipe, the sterile smell sharp in the air, and began gently wiping away the blood from your nose. Each touch sent a fresh wave of pain through you, and you winced, tears streaming down your face.

“Do you still love me?” (Y/N) blurted out, the question laced with insecurity.

Billy paused, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“What, why wouldn’t I, baby?” He questioned, his voice thick with a hint of hurt.

“We spied on you, Mike and Lucas too, but Eleven heard you say that you wanted to spend the day with someone else and that it wasn’t fair on me, that you didn’t think you were capable of feeling like this again an-“ Billy cut you off, his hands gently framing your face.

“No, no, baby, no! I was saying that about you! I wanted to spend the day with you, but I knew it wouldn’t be fair to keep you to myself when I knew you wanted to hang out with Max and Eleven. And I told Tommy I didn’t think I’d feel like this again because I never thought I would. Then you came back and changed it all, all of it was about you, baby, every word, you. No one else, never anyone else.” He reassured, his eyes searching yours for any sign of doubt.

Tears welled in your eyes, relief washing over you in a tidal wave.

“I thought tha-“ (Y/N) started, but he wouldn’t let her finish.

“No, don’t ever think that again. I love you, only you, do you understand me?” He asked, his voice firm but tender.

You nodded, unable to speak past the lump in your throat. Billy leaned in, landing a soft kiss on your lips, careful to avoid contact with your nose. The kiss was a silent promise, a reassurance that cut through all the noise and doubt.

He continued to clean up the blood from your face and neck, his touch gentle and soothing until finally, he guided you to the bathroom, the cool tile a sudden shock to the warmth you felt under the bridges of your feet. The water turned a shocking red, a miniature whirlpool carrying away the last remnants of the fight down the drain. He dried you off with a soft towel, his eyes never leaving yours, and then carried you back to his bedroom.

The room was lit by the lamp that stood tall next to the bedside table, along with the overhead light, casting long shadows that danced on the walls. He helped you undress, his fingers brushing against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. He gently guided you into one of his oversized shirts, the fabric soft and familiar against your skin as it swallowed your frame.

Billy pivoted and started to undress himself, his movements slow and deliberate, until he was stripped down to only his shorts. He turned off the overhead light, leaving only the warm glow of the lamp, knowing you wouldn’t want to sleep in complete darkness tonight and settled beside you, pulling you close until you were pressed tightly against his chest.

“You’re okay, baby, I’m here, okay, I got you.” He reassured.

Billy played with your hair, his fingers tracing patterns on your scalp until your eyes fell heavy.

“I love you, baby, I love you so much.” He whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

“I love you too, Billy.” (Y/N) responded, her voice barely audible.

Shortly after, you fell into a deep sleep, safe and secure against Billy’s chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulling you into a peaceful slumber. Billy stayed awake for most of the night, his eyes scanning the room, his mind racing, going over and over the same part of the night, but staying alert to any sign that you might need him. He was your protector, your safety blanket, and he would do anything he could to keep you safe, Infact, there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do, to make that happen.

Part 3 anyone???

Click here to read Pt.1 now!

@i-crav3-blo0d @letmebe0k @shes-an-odd-bird @nelo0wesker @m3i1sthest4r @aryannavspx @alagalaska @alexissuave @amys-small-world @alagalaska-makes @broadwaybabe18 @biasedtoncrackt @bryandechartisasmolbean @bunnyfamily @bugs-n-roses @cheezbot @coleys-a-nerd @chandlerlovesme @cannibalhellhound @daphnexxlovee @dilutedbanshee @dayandnighthyuck @distinguishedsaladphantom @daisy-rome @empath-bunny @everythingsgucci98 @enmoana33 @eddies-acousticguitar @efty @fearlessxlaurin @fandom-princess-forevermore @flamewriterr @fatherfood @funkydino @gunlikesgirl @gwinamlvr @grazihilario6 @gabrielleqz @hgvbnkjhdccg @hauntedhouseofhargrove @hopefultyrantbread @hunnybuncounsumers @heav3nly-cupid @ich-liebe-dich-mehr47 @impossessedbyjeongyeon @isanaakira @ireallydgafsblog @jessica778me @julievirgen @jazzlynn29

[redroomreflections]

Paint It Black Chapter - Friends, right?

Teen Natasha Romanoff x Teen Reader

Masterlist | General Masterlist

Summary: Natasha Romanoff has never known love—or at least, that’s what she tells herself. During her time in the Red Room, she encountered a girl whose memory was forcibly erased from her mind. Now, as an Avenger, she faces a new enemy who turns out to be more than just a threat; they share a tangled history that challenges everything Natasha thought she knew about herself and love.

Chapter Summary: Natasha learns that she and R are more than friends?

W/c: 6.7k

Warnings: This is a dark story, so read at your own risk. Mentions/hints of SA, violence, guns, and abuse. We're exploring the Red Room and Natasha's origins, kind of.

Note: This is a long one. I had it ready a month ago and well life got shitty soo.. i like it. i hope you do too.

The apartment was unusually quiet when Natasha woke up. Her arm was outstretched toward the headboard, subconsciously anticipating the pull and pinch of handcuffs and the cold bite of steel around her wrist. For a split second, she tensed, bracing for the tug that would signal another training day, another lesson, another punishment.

But it never came.

Just sunlight filtered through expensive curtains, and the sounds of a city that didn’t know who she was. The scent of burnt toast lingered through the penthouse from Karen’s poor attempt at breakfast.

Her fingers curled in the space beside her.

This was freedom, supposedly. Soft beds and unlocked doors. But her body hadn’t gotten the message. It was still awake, ready to fight, obey, hurt, or break. She sat up and rubbed the back of her neck, trying to ease the knot, but her eyes kept darting back to the spot on the headboard, expecting… what?

She had spent three years in a bedroom like this one with a pretend mother, father, and little sister. Toys on the shelf. Drawings on the fridge. Warm meals and bedtime stories rehearsed to perfection. But even then, her instincts had never dulled. The illusion had never held, or so she convinced herself.

This was just another variation of the same game.

Different set. Same rules.

She peeled the blanket off and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her feet touched the carpet instead of concrete. The nightgown she'd been provided was a bit too big for her, but it was better than the itchy nightdresses given by her handlers. She headed to the bathroom first, needing to wash her face and brush her teeth to scrub away the last lingering traces of sleep and nightmare.

It was all very routine.

The face in the mirror was the same as always: a young girl. Red hair. Pretty. Green eyes. Small. She'd been told a lot about the girl in the mirror: her name, age, and story. None of it was anything she defined on her own. She splashed water on her face and ran her fingers through her tangled hair. She brushed her teeth quickly, ignoring the way her arm twitched.

There were no gunshots today.

No explosions.

Nothing.

Her stomach growled.

Breakfast.

She'd learned long ago to keep her mouth shut. To do her job. To take her orders. Still, she struggled. Being twelve had its rules, and she had to learn them all over again. She padded out into the hallway, bare feet quiet against the laminate floors. As she passed your door, she hesitated. The lights were off. No movement. Still in there.

Fine.

She moved on.

In the kitchen, the table was covered in paper and grainy photos. Karen stood leaning over a mug of coffee. Ken was already seated, pointing something out on the printout between toast bites.

Natasha lingered in the doorway. She didn’t know the protocol.

“Morning,” Karen said without looking up.

Natasha didn’t respond. Her eyes scanned the table. The woman in the photos was elegant, mid to late twenties, with sharp cheekbones and sharper eyes. Classic Widow. The kind that made men underestimate her.

“She defected last year,” Ken said, tapping the page like Natasha had asked. “Dreykov’s old files say she went ghost in Berlin, but she’s surfaced here. Been leaking intel to someone. We’re trying to figure out who.”

Natasha nodded. She didn't trust herself to speak.

"You hungry?" Karen asked.

Natasha shrugged. She was, but it wasn’t her place to admit that.

Karen gestured toward the fridge. "Eggs are in the crisper. It's about all we have."

Natasha nodded. She eyed Ken, thinking about last night and how he'd been at your bedroom door when she caught him. For that very reason, she decided she didn't like him. Even as she watched him, he barely looked up from his notes, already moving on to something else. Karen sipped her coffee like this was all routine. To them, it probably was. Just another day. Another asset.

Natasha stood stiffly by the counter. She didn’t reach for the eggs. She didn’t move until Karen finally addressed her again.

“You and y/n will go to Central Park today,” she said, flipping to a different page in the file. “Around nine. Our girl usually shows up near the fountain. Light trail. No contact unless it’s necessary. She jogs.”

Natasha blinked. “Just us?”

Karen nodded like it was apparent. “She won’t think anything of kids. That’s the point.”

That’s the point.

She swallowed the bitterness on her tongue.

Karen didn’t ask if she was ready. Or if she felt safe. Or even if she understood. She just handed over the mission like passing off a grocery list.

Natasha gave a tight nod. She understood just fine.

Useful, not protected. Seen, but not seen. A tool. Not a person.

She reached into the fridge and pulled out a carton of eggs. The yolks were fresh. Good protein. Healthy.

She was still hungry.

Karen went back to the photos. "You'll get a call at eight. That's when you head out. We'll be here. Trying to get into her apartment." Karen pulled something out of her pocket. "This is a cellular phone."

"I know what a cellular phone is," Natasha muttered.

"Right. Of course. Anyway, here." She slid the device across the counter. "You'll need it."

She stared down at the phone in her hands like it might bite.

It was heavier than it looked. Sleek. Black. Nothing like the clunky handsets they'd used in training simulations. This one wasn’t for practicing field comms or running a scripted op. This one was real.

“Just answer when it rings,” Karen added, returning to her coffee. “We’ll handle the rest.”

No more instructions. No concern. No check-in. Just the phone and the job.

Natasha’s fingers closed around the device. She didn’t say thank you. She didn’t say anything.

She was already expected to know what to do.

She cracked an egg into the pan and watched it sizzle, the scent rising like something familiar, something oddly domestic. But the taste never made it past her throat. Not really.

Behind her, Karen and Ken talked in low voices. They discussed strategies, surveillance angles, and aliases. They didn’t glance her way again.

She wasn’t a child to them. She was a pair of eyes and legs that could move through a crowd unnoticed. A face no one would question. The perfect shadow.

She put the phone in her pocket.

And when the egg was done, she plated it carefully. One for her. One for you.

*****

She knocked at your door gently, wondering what she could say to make you get up.

"Y/n?"

No answer.

"Your eggs are getting cold."

She pushed the door open and stepped inside, expecting the worst. But instead, she saw you sitting atop your windowsill reading a book. She briefly read the title "Are you there, God? It's Me, Margaret." She wondered where you got that from. Books were usually vetted before being given to the widows. So she could guess you'd stolen it, but from where? You didn’t look up immediately, even though you heard the door creak open. You’d half-expected it to be Karen, maybe Ken, coming to give you another order, lecture, or something you didn’t ask for. But when you saw the flash of red hair in the window's reflection, your shoulders tensed for a different reason entirely.

Natasha.

You shifted your posture quickly, trying not to look like you’d been comfortable. Like you were enjoying the stupid book. You pressed the paperback flat against your thigh, face warming as you tried to hide the title beneath your palm. Too late. You knew she saw it.

She didn’t comment, though. She just moved toward the dresser and set down a plate with eggs and a single piece of toast so black it could’ve been used as charcoal.

“Didn’t know what you liked,” she said, voice low. Awkward, almost.

You risked a glance at her. She wasn’t looking at you and just standing there, unsure if she should stay or go. Her hands were shoved into the pockets of her sweatpants, shoulders hunched.

You cleared your throat and mumbled, “Thanks.”

It came out sharper than you meant. Not grateful, but not hostile either. Just… defensive.

Natasha didn’t flinch. Didn’t press.

"We're going to Central Park today," She said.

"What?"

"They want us to tail the mark. You and me."

You blinked.

"Karen thinks the target will be less suspicious of kids."

"Right." You glanced down at your lap. "Sure. I guess."

You weren't sure if she was telling you the truth. She could've easily been sent to ensure you weren't hiding in your room. Not that you think either of those adults out there would have cared.

"Thanks," You said, expecting her to leave the bedroom.

But she didn't.

She stayed, eyes wandering the room.

"Did you sleep well?" She asked after a few seconds of silence.

You glanced up. Her gaze was trained on the bed. On the headboard. On the indentation left by a handcuff. Then down to the pile of clothes you'd had tucked into a corner. Pajamas that you switched out for the ones you were currently wearing.

"It's fine," you said quickly.

Her eyebrows furrowed.

"No one bothered you, did they? You know, while you were asleep," She explained at the raise of your brow.

You shook your head. "No?"

You didn't tell her about the nightmare, how you'd woken up alone and scared. You had never truly slept in a place alone before. She nodded slowly, but her eyes didn’t leave the mark on the bed. You could tell she recognized it. Of course, she did.

“Okay,” she said quietly, though it sounded like she didn’t believe you. Or maybe she didn’t know what else to say.

You shifted uncomfortably, the book still warm on your side. You hated how exposed you felt. Like she could see right through you. Like somehow, she knew about the nightmare, about how long you sat frozen in bed before the sun came up, about the tears you wiped away before they could fall.

She took a step closer, then stopped again. You didn’t look at her, but you felt the tension in the air shift like she wanted to reach out but didn’t know how.

Instead, she asked, “What’s the book about?”

You blinked, thrown off by the question. You glanced at the cover again, embarrassed.

“It’s… weird. Some girl talking to God about periods and bras and stuff.”

Natasha tilted her head slightly. “That sounds… awful.”

That got the smallest laugh out of you. “It kind of is.”

She gave a half-smile. It didn’t reach her eyes, but it was real.

You looked down again, fingers brushing the pages. “Why’d you bring me breakfast?”

Her silence lingered a beat too long.

“Because you didn’t come out,” she finally said. “And I thought maybe you were… hungry.”

You nodded. That was fair.

You didn’t thank her again, and she didn’t ask you to. Instead, she leaned against the doorframe for a moment longer, then straightened up.

“We leave in 20,” she reminded you. “Be ready.”

You didn’t answer, but she didn’t wait. The door clicked softly shut behind her.

And for a while, you just sat there, staring at the dent in your headboard and wondering what it meant that she noticed.

*******

You were both in the park several hours later, waiting for the target. You sat beside Natasha on the bench, your knees pulled to your chest, and your arms wrapped around them. She was quiet. Focused.

Natasha was a people watcher. She didn’t do it purposefully; it was instinct by now. Her eyes went from couple to couple, stroller to jogger, pigeon to pretzel cart. She cataloged everything: the man's hand too deep in his coat pocket, the teen pretending not to watch a tourist’s purse, and the woman pacing near the fountain with a cell phone to her ear, glancing over her shoulder every three seconds.

“She’s not here yet,” she said, almost to herself.

You nodded, though you weren’t sure how she could tell.

“She’ll run past,” Natasha added. “They said she always does. Loop around the west side, head back toward 72nd.”

You stretched your legs and looked around. So many people. Dogs and laughter and honking taxis. It should have felt like freedom. Instead, it felt like noise. Overwhelming noise. You hated to admit it, but Natasha had the edge out here. She looked so natural in the disorder, almost like she belonged in the blur of noise and motion. Her sharp eyes, her steady breath, the way she didn't flinch when a bike zipped past too close to the curb. You, on the other hand, felt like a loose thread just waiting to be tugged.

You hadn’t lied back at the apartment. Dreykov had rarely let you out of his sight. When you were out, it wasn’t like this. It was rehearsed. Controlled. Monitored. The people around you weren’t strangers. They were extras. Props. Trained to play their part in the illusion. You had been on a handful of missions, clean, calculated jobs. Ones where the risk was low and the point was to prove your obedience, not your instincts. You never fumbled. Never failed. You were good. Better than most girls your age.

But you still felt like a baby sometimes. Out here, especially.

Not scared. No. That wasn’t the right word. You knew how to defend yourself. You knew how to kill if you had to. But sitting on this bench, surrounded by life that wasn’t manufactured or staged, made you feel like a shadow at the edge of something bigger. You didn’t know where to put your hands or how loud you were supposed to laugh.

There was no script here. No handler feeding lines into your earpiece. Just you. And Natasha. And the noise of a world that moved too fast and too freely. And even now, you weren’t sure if you were pretending to be a girl… or if you’d forgotten how to be one.

So yeah. This was different. But not impossible.

You glanced at Natasha again. She didn’t even seem tense. Just watchful. Ready.

You opened your book, but your eyes didn’t stay glued to the page. Every few lines, you looked up. Checked the path. Scanned the faces. It wasn’t just about being alert. It gave your hands something to do. A rhythm. Something normal.

Beside you, Natasha shifted. She crouched down momentarily, picking something up from the base of the bench. A stick. Then another. Before long, a small pile formed by her boots. She didn’t say anything; she just let her fingers work, arranging the sticks into a small square and lining them up flat. Careful. Precise.

You didn’t ask what she was doing, and she didn’t explain. But it was nice watching her build something instead of breaking it.

"Why’d you hide away in your bedroom last night?" she asked eventually, her voice quiet and not looking at you.

You froze a little, then turned a page in your book without reading it. "I didn’t want anyone coming in."

Natasha nodded, like she understood. And maybe she did.

"Ken bothers you," she said.

You shrugged, but she wasn’t really asking. Just stating facts the way she saw them. Observing. Cataloging.

“Everyone bothers me,” you said after a beat. You didn't want it to seem too serious.“I just… I didn’t want to talk.”

You felt her eyes on you, but you didn’t look up.

“He knocked,” you added. “I didn’t answer.”

“That’s good,” she said.

You blinked, surprised by the softness in her voice.

Natasha returned to her little stick house, adjusting one of the walls. “You don’t have to let anyone in. Not unless you want to.”

You didn't say anything, but that made you feel a bit better.

A minute passed. Then two.

Suddenly, Natasha nudged you and nodded toward the path. You followed her line of sight, spotting a woman jogging in a pair of black running shorts and a blue sports bra. The target. You recognized her from the files. She was exactly how Karen and Ken had described. As she whirled past you, you averted your gaze, making sure not to seem too obvious.

"Is it her?" you asked, though you were already pretty sure.

Natasha nodded.

"Where is she going?"

"West. Around the loop."

She picked up a stick and set it carefully on top of the pile.

"So we follow?"

"That's the job."

You closed the book. Your heart was racing, and you weren't sure why.

You stood up and took a deep breath, then stepped behind her.

You watched Natasha as you walked along the path, and the woman continued her jog. She slowed ahead like she’d reached the halfway point of her loop. You subtly tapped Natasha’s hand, and you adjusted your pace.

“I think I’m going to ask my mom to pierce my ears,” you said suddenly, your voice pitched loud enough to carry.

“What?” Natasha blinked at you, confused but going along. “Your parents would let you?”

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t they?”

Natasha didn’t miss a beat. “It’ll hurt.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, but that’s not the point. My friend Sarah had hers pierced, and her dad took her out for ice cream. Plus, it would make me look more grown-up.”

Natasha gave a faint smile, but her eyes scanned the path ahead. “Well, if you truly think so—”

"Excuse me," a voice cut in.

You turned. The jogger had slowed to a walk and was standing a little too close now, her breath only slightly labored, her tone casual, but her eyes too sharp.

“I don’t mean to interrupt,” she said, smiling politely. “I think I’ve seen you both around. You're in my building, right?”

Natasha’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Could be."

The woman’s gaze flicked toward you next, assessing and not threatening, not precisely. Just… curious. Like she was trying to place you in a memory she didn’t fully trust.

You looked away, pretending to adjust your jacket zipper.

“The building near Columbus Circle,” she added, still smiling. Fourth floor. The one with the ugly doormat."

Something in your chest tightened. How she said it, light and teasing, made it feel like a real memory. Like she knew you.

Her voice was smooth and rich, with a faint lilt you couldn’t quite place. England, maybe. Or somewhere near it. Did she grow up there? Her skin was warm-toned and clear, even glowing a little beneath the muted city light. Her hair, long and straight, was pulled back in a neat ponytail. Too perfect for someone who’d just been jogging.

You didn’t recognize her. But something about her made your palms sweat.

There was a kindness in her gaze. Genuine, even. She looked at the two of you like she liked talking to strangers. It came easily to her.

You smiled back. Disinterested but polite. Just a kid on spring break, irritated to be stopped.

But inside, your mind ticked like a clock. You were cataloging every detail: the subtle shift of her weight onto her back foot. The curve of her smile. The faint scar just above her brow, healed but not hidden. Widow marks. Signs you’d been trained to spot since you were old enough to walk in a straight line.

And suddenly you weren’t sure what scared you more—the possibility that she was dangerous.

Or the possibility that she was familiar.

You nodded politely, your heartbeat suddenly louder in your ears. You must have been waiting too long to respond since Natasha stepped slightly in front of you.

“Nice to meet you,” she said coolly. “We’re still figuring out where everything is. Central Park’s as far as we’ve made it.”

"We're here on vacation with my parents." You joined in with much more confidence.

"Vacation." The woman smiled again, but her eyes narrowed a fraction. "Must be nice. Where are you guys originally from?"

"Ohio," Natasha answered.

"That's lovely. My mother is from Cleveland. Do you know it?"

Natasha shrugged. "I've been a couple of times. "

"Ah. I bet it's nice."

"Not bad," Natasha said, a smile playing on her lips. "Though the zoo could use a renovation. The monkeys smell awful."

You stared at her, amazed by how easily she could lie. She was completely casual, even laughing, like this was a conversation she'd had a hundred times.

"Anyway, we should be going," You said. "It was nice to meet a neighbor, though."

The woman's eyes didn't leave your face. "Right. So great to meet you. I have to run. Literally." She chuckled at her own joke before putting her headset back over her ears. You and Natasha started walking again, keeping your pace measured. You didn’t look back.

But a few steps later, something caught your eye on the ground. A small item, half-tucked into the edge of the path.

A leather cardholder. Deep brown, worn at the edges, and unmistakably expensive.

Natasha almost missed it, but you stopped, crouched, and picked it up before anyone else noticed. Your fingers ran over the monogram at the corner. G.R.

“She dropped it,” you murmured.

Natasha leaned over your shoulder. “Are you sure it’s hers?”

You opened it slowly, careful not to look too obvious. Inside: a few subway tokens, a twenty-dollar bill, a photo of a dog sitting in front of a fountain, and a business card.

Georgina Rousseau, Behavioral Specialist.

332B West Tower, Behavioral Health Center.

A phone number, an email address, a faint scent of something.

You stared at the name. Georgina. You quickly put the business card in your pocket before sliding the wallet to Natasha to inspect. If she saw you, she didn't indicate otherwise.

Your mind flickered, something shifting.

“She’s already gone,” Natasha said.

You nodded. She was. "Ken and Karen will want to know about this." Natasha nodded and pulled out the cellular phone she'd been given.

*********

Leaving an entire penthouse to two teenagers was bound to be bad news. Under normal circumstances, a party would be held. Maybe even sneaking into the liquor cabinet if the teens were daring enough.

For you, it meant another night to dive into your book.

You were stretched across the bed, fresh from the shower, hair damp and curling around your ears and shoulders. The night had gone oddly quiet without Karen’s heels clicking or Ken’s voice carrying through the study. It was unsettling how easily the silence crept in. You quite liked it.

The book wasn’t even good. Just distracting. You didn’t relate. Not really. But you liked the way it was written. Simple. Soft. The kind of soft you’d never been allowed to be.

A knock on the door made you tense for a second. But it was light. Casual.

You didn’t answer, but Natasha let herself in anyway.

She was already in pajamas. An oversized tee and shorts. Her hair was tied in two braids like she didn’t know what else to do with it. She padded in barefoot, clutching a pillow under one arm.

You blinked at her. “What are you doing?”

She shrugged and tossed the pillow onto the foot of your bed. “You said we were close enough for sleepovers.”

You raised an eyebrow. “That was for the mission.”

“Right.” She walked over to the window and peeked out at the skyline. “Well, the mission's not over. And I’m bored.”

You closed the book but didn’t mark the page. “We have our own rooms.”

“And?”

You gave her a long look. “What do you want to do? Paint our nails and talk about boys?”

Natasha grinned a little. “Isn’t that what sleepovers are for?”

You rolled your eyes and shifted to sit cross-legged. “You’re weird.”

She sat down next to the bed, back against it, legs stretched out in front of her. "Normal teenagers do these things."

You studied her a bit. The girl who had been so adamant about you not being friends was initiating a sleepover.

"Did you have sleepovers before?" You asked.

"No. Not like this," She said softly. "With Yelena sometimes." She shrugged, trailing off.

You thought about that. How different it was. How odd.

"Were you allowed to be close to each other?"

Natasha hesitated, looking down at her hands. "No, but we were anyway."

"How come you are allowed to ask questions about my life, but I can't ask about yours?" Natasha said suddenly.

"Well, there's nothing to know," You said. "Nothing worth telling."

Natasha shook her head. "I don't believe that."

You shrugged and pulled a loose thread on your pillowcase.

"You always say that," Natasha said, her voice quieter now. "That there's nothing worth knowing. But I see the way Dreykov looks at you. The way the others avoid you. You’re not nothing."

You stilled.

A beat passed between you. Then two.

“I didn’t say I was nothing,” You murmured. “I said there’s nothing I want to tell.”

Natasha frowned, and for once, she didn’t push. She leaned back against the side of the bed, the two of you sitting close, but not touching.

“I’m not trying to make you tell me everything,” she said after a moment. “I just think it's best if we know more about each other."

You swallowed, eyes still trained on the thread in your hand. Slowly, you tugged it free.

"Just a few weeks ago, you were telling me to stay away from you," You began. "You thought I'd lied to you to get a leg up with Dreykov."

"You didn't," she said quietly.

"Yeah. Because I know what it's like to be under his thumb so closely."

She was quiet for a second. "But I was right. You do lie. To protect yourself. And not just for missions."

You didn’t reply. You knew you had lied, and not always because it was necessary. It wasn't even a lie, technically. Dreykov needed her to be at her best. He was going to send her on a mission. This mission. But you didn't think the test had come yet. You didn't want to tell her that part.

“I think you lie so much, you don’t even know what’s true anymore,” Natasha added, not accusing—just observing.

You closed your eyes for a second, not out of anger but because it hit too close.

“That’s the point,” you murmured.

Natasha didn’t respond right away. She leaned her head back against the edge of the bedframe, exhaling.

“We’re not normal,” she said finally. “We’re not supposed to have sleepovers or tell secrets or trust each other.”

“And yet here we are,” you said, voice quieter than before.

Natasha gave a weak smile. “You’re not as scary as they say.”

You gave a soft laugh. “You are.”

Her head turned slightly, just enough to catch your eye. “Good.”

Silence settled again, but this time it wasn’t heavy. Just… still.

Eventually, she spoke again. “Do you want to, maybe, watch a movie?”

You blinked. “Right now?”

Natasha shrugged, her eyes darting away for a moment. “Yeah. If we’re having a sleepover... we’re supposed to watch a movie, right?”

You considered it for a beat. Then you nodded.

“Fine. But I’m picking.”

She rolled her eyes, pushing up from the floor with a grunt. “As long as it’s not that weird puberty book in movie form, I’m good.”

You tossed a pillow at her back and followed her into the living room.

*********

Clueless played low on the TV, its light casting long shadows across your faces. The two of you sat curled up, only a few inches away from each other, on the couch as you tried to make sense of the movie. Apparently, it had been all the rage last year. The movie kept playing in flickers of pink and plaid. Onscreen, Cher was giving another grand monologue about makeovers and high school politics. Her voice was sugary and confident, like she'd never once been afraid of her reflection.

You grabbed the remote and paused it.

Natasha looked over, brow raised. “Why’d you stop it?”

You didn’t answer right away. You were staring at the screen, eyes distant.

“Are girls in America really like this?” you asked finally.

Natasha blinked. “Like what?”

You turned toward her slightly, one knee curling beneath you on the couch. “I don’t know. Loud. Flirty. Ditzy?"

She shrugged. "Some. Why?"

You hesitated, a frown tugging at the corner of your mouth.

Natasha gave you a look. "Do they scare you?"

"Of course not," you scoffed, but your voice sounded unsure. "It's just different from what I thought."

"How?"

"I don't know." You paused, thinking. “I mean, technically, I’m American, right? But I was raised in Russia. In the Red Room. This kind of life?” You shook your head. “It’s like watching a cartoon.”

Natasha smirked. “A very well-dressed cartoon.”

You let out a quiet laugh. “They act like nothing can touch them. Like everything will work out just because it has to.”

Her smile faded a bit as she turned toward you. “Maybe that’s the point.”

You paused. “I think I hate Josh.”

Natasha blinked. “What?”

You pointed at the screen where Cher and Josh were mid-argument. “He’s smug. And annoying. And way too old.”

Natasha let out a small laugh. “I thought you said you liked this movie.”

“I like Cher,” you clarified. “I don’t like that she has to fall in love at the end.”

"Eh," Natasha shrugged.

"I mean, boys are stupid," You continued. "Love makes you soft."

“Soft isn’t bad,” Natasha said.

“It is where we come from,” you replied. Your voice was quieter now. “And anyway… boys are stupid.”

Natasha was quiet for a long beat. Then she said, “Not everyone wants a boy.”

You looked at her.

You didn’t blink.

Not for several seconds.

Natasha didn’t look away either.

The room got quieter. The movie still frozen on the screen behind you, bright colors casting soft light against her face.

Her voice was lower now. “Have you ever kissed anyone?”

You scoffed. “We were trained to. That’s different.”

“No,” she said. “I mean for real.”

You shook your head slowly. “You?"

Natasha didn’t answer.

She just leaned in—slow, hesitant, uncertain.

And so did you.

The kiss wasn’t perfect. It was barely anything. But it was real. Not rehearsed. Not for a mission. Not for leverage.

It was just you and her.

And when you both pulled back, neither of you said a word. When she opened her eyes, those green eyes. You did what only you could do. You panicked. You stood up, rushing to the guest bathroom, before slamming the door.

"Y/n?" Natasha called. "y/n are you okay?"

You didn't answer. You didn't want this to seem bigger than it was. This wasn't what you came for. Kissing her wasn't what you intended. Did you even like her in that way? All of the thoughts were too confusing, and you hated yourself for the tears clouding your vision. Inside the bathroom, you pressed your hands to the sink, gripping the porcelain until your knuckles went white.

Stupid. Stupid.

Why did you let that happen?

You weren’t supposed to want anything. Not connection. Not softness. Not her.

You were supposed to be composed. Cold. Controlled.

Instead, your skin still buzzed with the kiss. Your face felt warm. Your chest felt tight.

And worse, you didn’t even know what you were angry about.

Not the kiss itself. Not her.

You were angry with yourself. For reacting. For letting your guard down. For wanting something you didn’t fully understand.

You stared at your reflection and hated how young you looked.

Fourteen. Widow or not, you were still a kid.

And you had no idea what the hell to do with that.

****

On the other side of the door, Natasha was having similar feelings.

She stood still, hands shoved into her sweatshirt pocket, eyes locked on the bathroom door like it might open if she just waited long enough. But it didn’t.

She replayed it in her head—the kiss. Quick. Barely anything. But still too much.

She hadn’t meant to do it. Not really.

Or maybe she had.

But she didn’t expect it to feel like that. Not like the empty rehearsals with dolls and dummies, or the Red Room training clips on seduction and manipulation. This wasn’t strategy. It wasn’t performance.

It was curiosity.

Warmth.

It was real.

And now she’d ruined it.

You ran. Not just emotionally, but physically. Slammed the door like she’d said something cruel. Like she’d hurt you.

Natasha exhaled through her nose and leaned against the opposite wall, head thunking softly against the drywall. She didn’t like this feeling. It reminded her too much of the early days in training, when she didn’t know the rules yet. When every mistake meant punishment. Uncertainty felt like danger.

She was only twelve, for god’s sake. Just a kid. But she didn’t feel like one most of the time.

She’d killed people.

She could speak four languages.

She could disassemble a pistol blindfolded.

But now she was standing in a borrowed penthouse hallway like some stupid girl in a movie—after a kiss.

The silence dragged on, heavy and uncomfortable.

She wasn’t going to knock again. She wasn’t going to beg you to come out or apologize for doing something she hadn’t even known was wrong.

But she did feel bad.

Not because of the kiss.

But because you looked so scared afterward.

Because for once, she thought she’d found someone who understood what it was like to be pulled apart and put back together in someone else's shape.

Maybe she was wrong.

Maybe she wasn’t supposed to get that close.

Her thoughts began to get more self-deprecating by the minute when the door opened from the bathroom. Her head immediately shot up as she watched you slowly step out. You didn't say much, but the short sniffles she heard from you said a lot.

You weren't okay.

You slid down in front of her, sitting against the opposite wall, your hands balled into fists by your side.

"Did he tell you to do this?" You asked quietly.

She didn't have to ask who.

"No," She tilted her chin. She was observing you. Hoping that it alleviated some pressure.

"Okay," You nodded. "Okay."

Her answer hung in the air like steam off a wound.

You wiped at your eyes roughly, like you were angry they'd betrayed you in the first place. But you didn’t move away. You just sat there across from her, breathing through the quiet.

Natasha stayed still too. She didn’t want to scare you off again.

“I didn’t plan it,” she said finally, her voice a bit hoarse. “It just happened.”

You nodded again, but it was the kind of nod that said you weren’t okay with it. Not because it happened. But because of everything that came with it.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel,” you whispered. “I don’t know what I’m allowed to feel.”

Natasha shifted slightly, arms draped over her knees. “Me neither.”

You both sat there in the narrow hallway, the tile cool under your legs, and the city humming far below. It wasn’t the Red Room, but it wasn’t safety either. Not really.

“I just…” Your voice cracked. You hated it. “I’ve only ever been his. Dreykov’s. Everything I’ve done, everything I’ve learned, it’s all been for him. "

Natasha simply listened.

"We're not supposed to do that. We're not supposed to be that for each other." You sighed. "It's...things like that come with consequences and pain. It's weird."

"Is that why you ran?" Natasha asked.

"Yeah." You looked at her, but it was like you didn't see her. "I don't know why I kissed you back." You admitted. "It shouldn't be a big deal, right? People do that for fun."

"Yeah," She nodded. "You probably know more than me."

You let out a shaky breath. “I don’t know anything, actually.”

Natasha blinked, surprised.

You gave a hollow laugh, your eyes trained on the floor. “I’ve never done anything because I wanted to. Not once. Not really. Not without looking over my shoulder or wondering what it would cost me later."

The words tumbled out faster than you expected. You didn’t look at her. You couldn’t. If you did, you might stop. And you needed to say it before you talked yourself out of it.

“I thought I was smart. I thought I had power, being his favorite. I thought that made me different. Untouchable.” You swallowed. “But it didn’t. He still—he still took things. All the things I never got to choose.”

Natasha’s lips parted, but no sound came out.

“And then you showed up,” you said. “And I didn’t know what to do with that. You weren’t scared of me. You weren’t trying to impress him. You just… were. You asked questions, you pushed back. You saw me.”

You rubbed your hand over your mouth, ashamed of the tremble in your voice.

“So yeah,” you finished. “That’s why I ran. Because no one’s ever touched me without trying to own me or hurt me. And you did it without asking for anything.”

The silence stretched between you, taut and heavy. You finally looked at her.

“Don’t say you understand,” you whispered. “Please don’t say that unless you really do.”

Natasha didn’t. She didn’t say anything. She moved closer, slowly and quietly, until she sat beside you. Not touching. Just near enough that if you reached out, she’d be there.

After a long pause, she said softly, “I don’t think I understand everything. "

You turned your head toward her, eyes glassy.

“And I’m not going to take anything from you,” she added. “Not ever.”

It wasn't a vow. Not a promise. Just words. But they meant something.

You nodded slowly, like that truth had been waiting years to be said out loud.

“I don’t want to belong to anyone,” you murmured.

Natasha looked at you.

“Then don’t,” she said. “Not even to me. Friends don't hurt friends."

You didn't know what changed between that day in the bathroom back home and here, but you were thankful for her. 

----> next part

[feeling-likeastranger]

“How do you cope with having BPD?”

I don’t.

[squidfreak]

Nightnoia & Daynoia

(Nightnoia)Definition: A gender where your paranoia affects a part of or your whole identity, usually at night, whether it is positive or negative.

(Daynoia)Definition: A gender where your paranoia affects a part of or your whole identity, usually during the day, whether it is positive or negative.

Information: Nightnoia requested by an anon

(No links)

Tagging: @pwaymate

[lazyclumzycat-blog]

[monigote001]

Very simple and shitty but something

You can interpret it as you like

[swimmingdeepbelow]

Warning for spoilers of Hannibal and all the extreme tws that come with it

I just started e1 and holy shit??? That opening? God damn!

The SA implication isn't fun

The slight ablism around the 5 min mark is unfortunately era accurate.

I'm really excited for this! I've been getting sucked into the fandom hardcore for months and finally broke lol

[justarithinnngs]

Spaces. (Squid Game x Player!Reader)

Chapter 1 - Dynasty

Warnings: death (character death), terminal illness, mentions of medical trauma, mental health struggles, emotional distress,

It was a perfect night. The kind that felt like it could stretch on forever—easy, light, and full of laughter. (Y/N) sat at the bar, leaning over to listen to her best friend, Jiwoo, as she rambled on about some guy she’d met earlier that evening. The music was loud, and the chatter was lively, but for a moment, everything felt right. (Y/N) could feel the hum of contentment in her chest, the steady beat of happiness she always found when she was with her friends.

“…And then, I swear, he tried to impress me with some lame pick-up line about my shoes,” Jiwoo laughed, her voice barely audible over the beat of the club. “Like I didn’t know exactly what he was doing.”

(Y/N) giggled, playfully nudging Jiwoo’s arm. “Classic. But hey, at least he tried, right? Most guys wouldn’t even bother.”

Across from her, Soojin joined in, raising her glass and grinning mischievously. “Maybe he thought your shoes were worth impressing. But knowing you, you probably just went along with it.”

(Y/N) laughed again, a soft, genuine sound that could be heard above the noise. It was the kind of laugh that made others smile, the kind that came easily to her. She loved moments like this—being surrounded by her closest friends, the ones who knew her better than anyone. The night stretched on, filled with shared jokes, teasing, and stories. In the midst of all this, (Y/N) was happy. She was light, unburdened, free.

But her friends knew something she didn’t always recognize herself.

“You’re too nice for your own good, you know that?” Jiwoo had said earlier in the night, a serious edge in her voice that was rare for her.

(Y/N) had smiled it off, tossing her hair back. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’re always the one to look out for everyone,” Jiwoo had continued, a hint of concern creeping into her tone. “You’re always helping people, always trying to fix things. You need to be careful, (Y/N). It’s gonna catch up to you one day.”

(Y/N) had laughed it off, but deep down, she knew they were right. She was the one always trying to make everyone happy. The one who stayed up late to listen to someone’s problems, who would drop everything to help a friend in need. It wasn’t that (Y/N) minded. She couldn’t imagine being any other way. Her kindness was like a light, and it radiated from her in everything she did.

But now, as the night wound down and she stepped out into the crisp air with her friends, a sudden shift of unease began to settle deep in her gut.

“Are you okay to get home?” Soojin asked, her voice tinged with a touch of concern as she linked arms with (Y/N).

“Yeah, I’m good. Just a little tired, that’s all,” (Y/N) smiled, waving off any worry. “I’ll be fine.”

“Call me when you get home,” Jiwoo added, glancing at (Y/N) with a look that made her hesitate. “We love you, you know that?”

(Y/N) grinned at her friends, pulling them in for a tight hug. “I love you guys too. Now, go home and get some rest. I’ll be fine.”

But the moment she stepped inside her apartment, the weight of everything from the night seemed to press down on her, and she knew something was off. Her phone buzzed as soon as she closed the door behind her.

It was her mom.

(Y/N) had spoken to her mom earlier that day. She’d been worried about her dad, who’d been feeling increasingly unwell. His health had been declining for a while, but they hadn’t been able to figure out what was wrong. At first, they thought it was just stress. Then they thought it was something minor, maybe just exhaustion. But as the weeks went on, things weren’t improving, and now, it felt like the weight of it all was suffocating her.

She answered the call, trying to shake off the remnants of the night’s fun, bracing herself for the conversation.

“Hey, Mom. How’s Dad?” (Y/N) asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

There was a long pause on the other end, and then her mom’s voice came through, softer, more fragile than usual. “Sweetheart… We got the results back.”

The words hung in the air, a sharp sting that immediately made her heart race. “Results? What do you mean? What’s going on?”

Her mom took a shaky breath, and in that moment, (Y/N) felt her entire world tilt. “It’s… brain cancer, (Y/N). Your father… it’s brain cancer.”

There it was. The words hit her like a physical blow. Brain cancer. Those two words, so simple, yet so heavy, dropped like an anchor into her chest, pressing the air from her lungs.

She gripped the phone tighter, her fingers trembling. “No… No, that can’t be right. He’s… he’s been feeling sick, but not like that. Not—Mom, there’s got to be a mistake. Please, tell me there’s been a mistake.”

Her mother’s voice cracked. “I wish it were, honey. I wish it were a mistake. But… it’s not. The doctors—they said it’s advanced. We don’t know how much time we have.”

A hollow silence swallowed the room, and for a moment, (Y/N) couldn’t speak. Her breath came in shallow gasps, and all she could hear was the sound of her own heartbeat, thundering in her ears.

The world outside her apartment, the noise of the city, the memories of the night—everything blurred, faded into a hazy mist. Her heart felt like it was being squeezed in her chest, each beat slower, more painful than the last. Her mind couldn’t grasp what her mom had just said. Brain cancer? Her dad, the man who had taught her to ride a bike, the one who made her laugh so hard she’d cry, the one who held her when she was hurt… he was sick. So sick.

“No…” she whispered, her voice barely audible, cracking under the weight of it all. She sank down onto the couch, the phone still pressed to her ear, the words spinning in her mind like a broken record. No, no, no.

Her mom’s voice came through again, gentle, but full of sorrow. “I know, baby. I know it’s a lot. But we need to be strong now. We need to be there for him.”

(Y/N) shut her eyes, squeezing them tight, as if she could block out the reality of it all. But it didn’t help. It didn’t change anything.

She could feel the spark inside her—her energy, her light—slowly dimming. It wasn’t something that happened all at once. It wasn’t a switch being flipped. It was the slow, agonizing realization that her world had just shifted, irreversibly. She wasn’t the same girl who had been laughing with her friends just hours ago. That girl was gone.

Her voice cracked again, this time louder. “I… I don’t know what to do, Mom. I don’t know what to do.” Tears blurred her vision, and she wiped at her eyes frantically, but they just kept coming. “I can’t lose him. I can’t lose him. Please, Mom, please tell me there’s something we can do.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the phone, and for a moment, it felt like time itself had stopped. Then, her mom spoke, her voice trembling, but filled with quiet strength.

“We’ll fight, (Y/N). We’ll fight for him. We don’t know how much time we have, but we’ll fight. You’re not alone in this.”

But (Y/N) felt alone. She felt the weight of the world pressing down on her chest, and for the first time in a long time, she didn’t know how to keep going. The energy that had once been so full of life, so vibrant, felt hollow now. Her father, the one person who had always been her rock, was slipping away from her, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

Her sobs echoed through the quiet apartment, her body wracked with grief she didn’t know how to handle. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. And she didn’t know how to fight against it.

She couldn’t be strong anymore. Not tonight. Not yet.

[patches4thechaos]

FULL DRAWING UNDER THE CUT, MIND YOUR WARNINGS ⚠️

SPOILER WARNING FOR THE GAME OMORI

⚠️CONTENT WARNING FOR DISTURBING IMAGERY, BLOOD, AND DEPICTIONS OF SUICIDAL METHODOLOGY ⚠️

you cannot flame me I warned you 👍👍

hi how’s your day going

I love sketching the horrors :)

[mechs-headcanons]

TimxMarius time! (might be triggering? Mod can you put warnings in tags if it is?)

The crew mocks Marius for calling himself a doctor because what he studies isn't something normal on their planets.

Except Tim. Because Marius is studying war ptsd. Tim has war ptsd. Marius helped Tim. Tim hasn't lost it because of Marius.

Tim is the only one actually respecting Marius' title.

aw:( yeah:(

[thegirlandthegay]

I had a thought about Padme dying of sadness

Ok so we joke about how Anakin survived being burned alive and padme died of ✨sad✨

But… I was thinking

1) remember this film was released for 13 year olds

2) listen to what the robot actually said “physically she is perfectly fine but she’s lost the will to live”

I think Padmes death is a reference to suicide

Democracy is gone, her friends will be persecuted, the only person she could count on to fix this, her husband, is gone…

Her killing herself wouldn’t be hard to imagine, but it would be hard to put in a pg13 movie

I don’t actually think this is what the movie makers wanted but it’s a fun thought

[icyimp]

I dislike it when I’m just scrolling on Instagram and a post about someone losing their pet—usually with sad music—comes up without any trigger warning. I understand that it’s completely fair for them to share their grief, but I really wish they’d include a trigger warning first. Every time I see one of those posts, I have a massive meltdown and can’t stop crying. It reminds me of losing my own pets, which is extremely triggering for me. I’ve always seen my pets as the only ones who truly love me and want me. They can’t lie to me.

[hearts4werka]

NNN day 9 | Shattered Promises

summary: a dangerous war was declared, the one thing you feared would happen in your life ever since your husband Matthew joined the military. The fear of him possibly dying out on the battlefield without a proper goodbye always managed to deliver you nightmares and now your worst fear came true, Matthew had to go off to fight for his country. Is he going to make it and come back home safely, or maybe you’ll forever hold the weight of him in your heart even without him among the living?

warnings: ANGST, military, war, violence mentioned, possible murder, missing limbs, dark times, happy ending (or is it?), sorrow, depressive times, vivid nightmares, triggering content & possibly more! Viewers advisory is supervised and proceed with caution!

authors note: we’re almost there at the double digits! Kinda got this random vibe today and the idea just popped into my head, this is gonna take a lot of military vibe music to get me through this and keep me in the spirit, I’m sorry as this can be kinda inaccurate in some ways 😭, luv yall and hope y’all enjoy this one

no nut november | masterlist | guestlist

- a month before the war

Laughter fills the air as our joyful golden retriever, Danny continues to jump and deliver eager licks to the side of his face while he lays down on the couch next to me, the television shadowing a soft glow over our faces alongside sunlight pooling in the room, dancing along the shadows of the living room. “Hey, Danny! Calm down there buddy!” He calls out, chuckling between each word, I observe the playful fight, thinking nothing bad could ever happen to our small little family with our fur baby. My hand slithers its way over to pet and ruffle the hairs on Danny's spine.

The whole moment was filled with pure enjoyment and true love, my heart twisting with delight as Matt finally managed to lure Danny off from on top of him and shelds himself with my body, grabbing a hold of my biceps and pull me in front of him. My laughter only intesifying as now Danny begins devoting his attention off Matt to me, hopping onto my chest but this time without eager licks and just relaxes against me, Matt dramatically gasps but a sweet chuckle quickly overpowers it, "Looks like someone has a favorite parent." He jokes, slipping out from under my body and sitting down before me.

After another playful moment passing by, Danny begins to feel tired and snuggles into Matts lap and slowly drifts into peaceful sleep. A romance movie plays in the background as me and Matt starts to chat in soft whispers to not wake up our fur baby. Admiring how at peace and happy he seems in a simple moment like this, feeling like nothing could take away the joy we've build throughout these years of our relationship, I let myself rest my head down onto Matts shoulder, tiredness now shadowing my features. "I got two little cute sleepyheads now, wanna go to bed now?" I nod my head and murmur a positive response.

Slowly and gently removing Danny off his lap to stand up, straightening his legs and turning his head to look at my sleepy form that’s now beginning to fall asleep. He walks over and picks up my body, bridal style just like he had on our wedding and every time I was tired, as well as at unexpected times. I loved him dearly and would never let anything bad happen to him, I was always a deep sleeper but ever since Matthew decided to join the military I was afraid about him possibly dying on the battlefield and I couldnt bear the dark thoughts roaming inside of my mind, it started with simple flashes of him in my mind but then turned into full nightmares I couldn’t bear.

It started flashing his image as he carried me over to our bedroom and laid me down, covering my body with the duvet before undressing himself and sliding under it next to me, he wraps a warm arm around me and pulls me into his chest, nuzzling his face into my hair as a feeling of safety washes over me but when I close my eyes I can only see him, laying on the ground-shot and dead- while his buddies drag his limp to the side for shelter, trying to revive him back to live but without proper medical care it was impossiple for them to. My heart twisted with sorrow as my eyes immediately pop open, unable to fall asleep no matter how hard I tried. I shift my body to face Matt and hide my face in his chest while clutching onto his body as if I would lose him then and there.

- Present day

The morning approaches, sun barely rising over the horizon, casting a warm soft glow over our bodies as I throw the duvet off my body. Seeing Matthew is stil asleep so I make it my misson to quietly get dressed and exit the room, feeling like doing wanting to do something special I decided to make a hot breakfast for him when he decides to wake up. As soon as Danny catches a glimpse of me walking down the stairs he immediatly runs over and demands some head scraches as well as sustenance, chuckling at how much energy he has in the morning, "Oh you want some head scraches? I'll give you some head scarches, you little cutie." He follows me into the kitchen, grabbing his feeding bowl and placing it on the countet but as I was about to get his food I hear something weird from the radio, immediately turning up the volume to hear more context and its coming from the news.

"Welcome everybody, your news-reporter speaking. The United States Of America has declared war upon another country and we need every soldier we can grasp over the age of 18, this is not a drill but a serious war our country is under. Please seek immediate shelter and consider flying out of the country for safety if youre near any of there states..."

I immediately freeze, being unable to move as the other words coming from the reporter become irrelevant to my brain, "every soldier they can grasp" my brain cannot comprehend the state of fear I am before Im pulled out of my thoughts when Matthew comes rushing down the stairs, seeming like he just woke up telling by his messy hair falling over his forehead. He walks over to me, seeing how scared I have become and places a reassuring kiss on my forehead, “It’s going to be okay, darling. I'm going to be fine, I wont leave you." He softly speaks, assuming I've hear all of it on the radion while he got a call, cradling me in his arms and kissing the top of my head to calm me down in any bit, he's known this was my worst fear and the repeative vivid dreams I've woken up to multiple times and him trying to calm my nerves.

He pulls away from the embrace and leans down to be face level with me, his expression softening as my eyes become glossy and shiny with worried tears swirling around in them. "I promise I will come back to you as soon as I get back, you can come with me to the pickup bus." He reassures, wiping away the slowly sliding tear with his thumb on my cheek. My arms wrap around his neck and pull him back in, feeling as this could be the last time we speak and feel each others warm embrace. "I'll go get ready now." He pulls away before turning around and walking back upstairs to dress himself more properly and apropriate, my soul eternally freaking out and not wanting this to be real. Maybe its just a dream-yeah a dream-now I just have to wake up from this nightmare of a day, oh wait, its actually very much real life. Soon I follow Matt into our bedroom and dress myself properly as well, getting rid of the pyjamas and now in outside clothes.

- At the pickup spot

As we approached the bus, my heart ached and twisted in various ways that made me feel sick to my stomach. Other familys and couples surrounded the bus, saying goodbyes and crying as they got on the bus. Matt holds my hand before turning to face me and pulls me into a soft kiss which only lasted a minute before he had to pull away, "Be safe and please don't die out there." I stammered, full of worry and fear for his life. the news reporter stated it would be a dangerous and serious war which only heightened my pulse, for now I had to take his words and cling onto them as much as I can for them to be true. He gave me a last reassuring kiss on the forehead before he got onto the bus, some of his buddies recognised me and I recognized them since Matthew would have them over often and before they got onto the bus to join Matt, they walked over to me and suddenly picked me up into the air. "woah, guys, what are you doing?-" I questioned but without a response in return, they carried me over to where Matt was sitting, he popped his head though the window and suddenly kissed me, I melted right into it and kissed him back almost immediately. It was filled with pure true love and caring, the world around me disappeared and the happy cheers of others started to become more faint to my ears, all of my worries disolve into the air and my only value left was the moment right now.

By the time we pull away, the driver calls out for everyone to get on board as they will be driving away soon, they let me down onto the ground and hop onto the bus themselves, from a distance now I watch as they close the doors and drive away, a feeling of loss washes over me which I can’t brush away no matter how hard I want to trust his words that he’ll be okay but it seems thats a promise he can’t make. I leave the spot and get into Matt’s car in which be drove us here in, feeling his scent lingering still in the air as I drive off back home.

- a year after the start of the war

Everyday after Matthew’s gone off to fight for his country’s freedom, I’ve waited patiently for him to return back home, dreaded the time I would hold him in my arms again, feel his lips on mine or him holding me and calming me down after a terrible nightmare. They’ve only became more intense and I couldn’t bear being alone anymore but got used to it after awhile, everyday I would plant a single white rose in his name since he always loved gifting them to me to remind me of his love and now it reminds me of him, now that a year has passed I could have a whole garden of them.

I was sitting outside infront of my collection of white roses as the sun shined, the sun ever started to remind me of him, of how brightly his smile would light up any room he walked in. My poor baby, gazing upon the growing garden and every single time get reminded of him so I never forget him, I could never forget my poor baby. He was the only man I’ve truly loved and wanted to grow old together, now the only thing I have are reminders of him and dissolving hope of him still being alive out there. “Please come back, my darling.” I murmur under my breath before suddenly being ripped out from my thoughts.

My phone buzzes, indicating an incoming call, I pick up my phone and pick it up, putting on my professional voice and serious face instead of the broke woman I was, “Hello?” I spoke into the receiver, waiting for the caller to speak. “Hello, is this Ms. Sturniolo?” My eyebrows furrow in confusion and skepticism, it slowly easing into my voice. “Yes, this is she. I-Im sorry but who’s calling?” “A former friend of his from the army, I’m here to inform you that your husband Matthew Sturniolo has been pronounced dead duo to a fatal shot in the arm and bleeding out while on the battlefield”

I freeze, the words slowly sinking in before my phone drops on the grassy ground, here I was grasping onto the lasts of my hope that he’s still alive and now he is presumed dead, my hands cover my face as uncontrollable sobs leave my mouth. Tears staining my face and hands, I can’t believe this, he promised he would come back, he… is dead. The worst of my fears has now came true and it hit me like a thousand bricks, I feel something shatter inside of me beyond repair.

I feel… broken? Like a part of me has been ripped out of me without my permission, he has became a part of me and build me into the person I am today, but without him by my side I don’t think I can continue being the same person and living my life normally, he was the only man I’ve loved truly and now he has been taken away from me. What have I done to deserve such punishment? I continue to lay on the ground, consumed by complete depression and a feeling of loss. That night I haven’t returned to my house and slept outside in front of the white roses, the thing that reminded me the most of my dear husband.

- a month after Matthew being presumed dead

The sun slowly rose up over the horizon and I was off to go preform my mundane routine, getting out of bed has been the hardest part every morning and, every emotion has been wiped off my face after… you know after what, I slumped over to my dresser and thrown on a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie I stole from Matthew, his specific scent still lingering on it. Walking downstairs, I walk into the kitchen and grab Danny’s bowl, filling it with food and placing it back down in its spot, he doesn’t greet me anymore, the only thing he has been doing besides eating was sit outside near Matthew’s grave in which I would join him every morning, I placed a hand crafted cross on the top of my white rose garden to indicate his grave, some of the older ones have started to wither and loose their beautiful white petals.

It reflects the feelings I feel, being like a withered white rose without him by my side, slowly loosing my color with each passing minute. I exit the house and drop down beside our dog, gazing upon the grave before I speak in a soft voice in hopes that he’s somewhere here, listening to the words I speak from my broken heart. “I wish you could be here with me, I can’t be the same person without you. If you’re listening to me, I love you more than anything in the world.” Every word stings the same amount, my throat feeling tight as I feel tears swirling in my eyes.

“Why wish when I’m right here?”

The sudden words take me out of my focus, the voice sounding too familiar to miss, looking around as my eyes catch a glimpse of Matthew. Wait… Matthew?- I stare at him as he suddenly is walking towards me but there’s something different about him-he’s missing an arm-so he isn’t dead after all? I could be imagining things, I wipe my teary eyes before he extends his arms, my body immediately rising from the ground and running into his warm embrace, feeling the touch I’ve dreaded to be able to feel again on my skin.

“I told you I would come back.” He happily cheered, holding me in his embrace and placing a lingering kiss on my forehead. I feel like myself again, the part of me I thought I lost forever has returned, Danny comes running at us and jumps up and down, wagging his tail aggressively in joy. “I-I thought you were dead, I thought I lost you forever… I-I seriously can’t believe you’re alive, you know they called-“ before I could finish my sentence, he smashes his lips against mine and stopped me from ranting for half an hour about what it was without him for all of this time without him. I slightly relax into the kiss, our dog barked and we chuckled into the kiss together, today I was put back together and felt like myself again now with Matthew beside me again. I’m me again, my other half has returned into its place, I’ll be forever grateful for the lord letting him live and stay with me in earth longer. My poor baby has finally returned and that’s all that matters to me right now.

Guestlist!

| - @sturnsxplr-25 - @strnzzvsp - @luvvs4chriss - @sturniolosweetheart33 - @pussypie456 - @choclatestarfishwithahat - @venusxsturnio - @bagsbyclair0 - @sturnstvs - @dykes4chris - @hoe4matt - @cayleeuhithinknot - @strnilolover - @marrykisskilled - @phone4pills - @emely9274 - @cupiidk1lls - @lily-strnlo - @nicksgirlfriend - |

[miaoumeowmiaw]

UPDATE ON UPSIDEDOWNSCOOP

PLEASE BOOST! You can find the original post here: https://www.tumblr.com/miaoumeowmiaw/775597673969582080/can-i-trust-these-new-leaks

Upsidedownscoop is an account on Twitter that contributed to the sexual exploitation of many girls, 17 and younger. One of these girls was my close friend, Lauren.

New information has been found, to try and make you understand why this is so urgent for me.

Upsidedownscoop is currently run by a 21 year old man. His first name is Tim. His birthday is December 11, 2003. He is from the Netherlands.

Last year, the co-owner of Upsidedownscoop (Sam, 18) exchanged photos of the Stranger Things 5 set for nude photos of Lauren. When she made Tim aware of this, he laughed and allowed it to continue. It was later revealed that this was done to multiple girls, as young as 10.

Upsidedownscoop is now claiming that I, as well as other people who were present, am lying about what happened. I would never lie about something like this. I made sure to take as many screenshots as I could, and I still find more today. I'm a victim myself.

I only want this grown, disgusting man, who has a history of misogyny outside of this situation, to lose the power and easy access to vulnerable children and women that his Stranger Things account gives him.

Please help me!